


Justice

by PhoenixVictoria



Series: The Chronicles of Hallie Jordan [3]
Category: DCU, DCU (Animated), DCU (Comics), Green Lantern (2011), Justice League, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:32:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixVictoria/pseuds/PhoenixVictoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You can afford it," says Batman. He's hunkered on the edge of the roof, cleaning blue, goopy blood off a bataring. "Cloud Nine Airlines currently pays you a 1.62 million dollars a week to test-drive jets in the Congo."</p><p>"It's not at all creepy that you know that," she tells him. "Cheese or pepperoni?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The interview with Lois Lane is actually kind of fun. They meet on the roof of the Daily Planet, her, Ness, Lois Lane and the tall guy, whose name is apparently Clark Kent, and who, it turns out, is actually as innocent and polite as he seems. He's set up a table when they get there, with four chairs- Lois Lane's got a pad of paper and a recorder on the table in front of her, and as they land Clark comes out onto the roof carrying four coffees and several packets of cream, sugar, etcetera. Sinestro thanks him and sits in the chair across from Lois Lane (and Lois Lane is another one of those scary women like Carol, the ones who could probably rule the world if they felt like putting in the hours) and Hallie disdains the other chair in favor of sprawling out across his lap.

 

He makes that fucking adorable little choking noise. "Jordan-"

 

"Hallie, remember?" She puts two sugars and one packet of cream in a coffee. 

 

"This is highly unprofessional," he says, but now he's more amused than anything.

 

"Yeah, yeah- holy shit!" she realizes. "I know the coffee order of the dude I wanna sleep with. I'm like a fucking grown-up."

 

"Mrs. Kalmaku will never believe it," he says dryly. Lane looks amused. Kent is blushing. 

 

"So..." says Lane. "First thing's first I guess."

 

"What actions do you intend to take regarding the terrorists?" asks Kent, at the same time Lane goes " _Does_  the equipment match up?" 

 

Kent makes a choking noise. He's gone scarlet. Lois and Hallie cackle at him.

 

"All right, all right," says Lois. "Down to business. What-"

* * *

" _Purple and Green: An Exclusive Interview with Sinestro and Hallie Jordan, by Lois Lane and Clark Kent_ ," Mom reads aloud at the breakfast table the next morning. "Catchy, isn't it?"

Hallie snags the paper.

 

"I think she could have come up with a better title," says Jason.

 

"Oh?" Janice ruffles his hair as she moves back to the table with a second helping of pancakes for Shelby. "Like what?"

 

"Like...  _Green with Envy_ , or... something," Jason finishes lamely.

 

"You're kidding, right?" Hallie asks, tossing Pistachio another scrap of sausage. "Because, I think that might be the worst pun I've heard in my entire life."

 

"Jordan, don't damage the child's fragile psyche." Sinestro snags the paper and stabs another bite of pancake. "Besides, given what you once asked about the Hoathians..."

 

When everyone gave him enquiring looks- "They are a very religious culture. Most members of the population undergo an exorcism at at least one point in their lives. Jordan asked if those who forgot to pay were "repossessed."

 

There were groans around the table.

 

"Ms. Lane describes you as "fun loving yet determined,"" continues Sinestro, "and she thinks your irreverent attitude a symptom of "taking so very few things so incredibly seriously that you have no time to care about anything else.""

 

"What few things?" asks Jack.

 

"Family. Duty. Lives. Me. Everything else, according to Ms. Lane, is irrelevant to you."

 

Hallie considers. "Yeah, that's actually kind of creepy, how she figures that shit out."

 

"Language," Sinestro, Carol, and Jack drone in unison.

 

" _That's_  even creepier," notes Shelby. "It's like they're possessed or something."

 

"Hopefully they won't forget to pay the-"

 

Shelby yelps and clutches her midsection. 

 

"What!?" demands Jim, leaping to his feet. "What is it?"

 

"It's- oh, fuck-" Shelby gives a strangled groan.

 

"Oh, holy shit," says Tom. "Holy shit, the baby's coming!" 

 

"Shit!" says Hal. "Someone boil water or something!"

 

"Jordan, dear, please stop talking."

 

While Jim groans, clutches his hair, and turns a pretty alarming shade of green, Sinestro comes to kneel next to Shelby. Hal's still too wrong-footed by the "dear" bit to retort to the "stop talking" bit.

 

Sinestro feels along her belly. "Have you felt any more contractions?"

 

"No," says Shelby. "I mean, I thought there was something about an hour ago-"

 

"In which case, we may as well relax." Sinestro stands up. "Miss Shelby, eat the rest of those pancakes. Mr. Jim, go and fetch her bag. Mr. Jack, please check to see of there are still reporters outside. Mrs. Jordan, Miss Janice, If you would be so kind as to lay some sort of sheet over the fold-out armchair in the living room? Hallie, go scout out the route to the nearest hospital. Mrs. Kalmaku, perhaps you could pack some sort of refreshments for everyone? Mr. Kalmaku, help her. Master Jason, distract your aunt."

 

Like magic, everyone separates to do as he says. 

 

"That was sexy," says Hal. His lips quirk. 

 

"What would I do without you around to inflate my ego?"

 

"Ego, hmm? That what they're calling it now?" She moves toward him, rolling her ample hips like an actress in a bad porno.

 

 "So vulgar," he sighs, and yanks her into a kiss that makes her head spin. She  _thinks_  Jason is retching and Shelby is clapping in the background, but both of them could be playing fucking  _tubas_  in the background and she probably wouldn't notice right now.

* * *

The actual birth is anticlimactic. Shelby stays in the delivery room for four hours or so, panting and sweating and occasionally muttering a rude implication about Jim's parentage. The end result is a pink, squashy-looking thing that, as Jim says, "looks just like you, Shelby!"

 

"You're kidding, right?" says Shelby. "Because I seriously just shoved a football out of my vagina and I don't think I can take it if my husband is also a moron."

 

"It'd just be too much," agrees Tom.

 

"If anything, it looks like Sinestro," adds Hallie. "Anything you two wanna tell me?"

* * *

They sit on the roof of the training complex.

 

"So," says Hallie.

 

"So," he agrees.

 

"I... have no idea what I'm doing."

 

"Neither do I."

 

"Really?"

 

He quirks his lips at her. "You sound surprised."

 

"I am. I expected you'd be Mr. Experience when it comes to mature, loving relationships."

 

Loving. She regrets the word the moment it's out of her mouth, but he doesn't appear to notice.

 

"I have been told that I am... prickly."

 

"No!" 

 

He gives his barely-audible snort, and it feels like there's a balloon swelling up inside her chest.

 

"What do you want, Hallie?"

 

"Hallie," she says, tasting her name. She'd like to taste it on his lips, but they probably have to do the talking shit first. Being an adult sucks. "You should say my name more often." She wiggles on the rooftop. "And with more  _passion._ "

 

He gives her a sardonic glare. "Answer the question."

 

"I want to watch movies," she says. "And spar. And patrol, and solve mysteries, and argue about dumb shit." She gives him a grin, the dirty, lascivious sort of grin, and wriggles again, only this time it's more like grinding. "And then I want to  _fuck_."

 

His face doesn't flicker, but he flushes dark indigo.

 

"I want to fuck  _everywhere_ ," she says, because that's the best color in the world. "And at all times. Normally I prefer to be on top, but I tend to get horny when you pin me down in the training room, so if you've got some kinky-ass bondage fantasies you wanna haul out-"

 

"Jordan!" His eyes are black.

 

"And I'm totally tying you up, too, because-"

 

He apparently realizes she's not going to shut up, because he blurs in movement- she's on her back, him sprawled half on top of her, before she can think to move. She can feel what cannot be anything but an erection up against her thigh.

 

"Stop- talking." he grits out. She moves her leg a little, and he hisses and pins it to the roof. He is very close, and she can see his fangs. She wasn't kidding about finding it hot when he pinned her down.

 

"Why?" she purrs, grinning at him, and wriggles again.

 

He rolls onto her, pinning her even more. His blush is fading, turning into more of a flush. If he moved up two inches, his dick would be pressing into her cunt. He leans down, and she feels his sharp teeth graze the shell of her ear. "Don't  _start_  things you can't  _finish_ , Jordan."

 

She opens her mouth in a grin,  _who says I don't want to finish it_ on her lips, and then realizes what was in his tone.

 

It's  _want_ , yes, but the sort of want that builds up over time- the kind that festers. It makes her wonder just how long he's been looking at her like that- and she's used to staring at him and wanting, but that's just her, right, he's... well, he hadn't wanted her, had he? Ness was- Ness was- 

 

Well, he was just so fucking... put together, wasn't he? He managed his shit, he was a Green Lantern, the best one there was, and he was brave, and tough, and, and- why did he want her?

 

Well, she knew why men wanted her. There was a very sizable reason, two of them, in fact, and-

 

"Hallie?" he asked. 

 

"Third date," she blurted.

 

His brows furrowed.  _Christ_  he was hot.

 

"For, um, fucking," she said. "You owe me two more dates."

 

He opened his mouth, probably to ask what was wrong, and she kissed him, because from her (admittedly limited) experience, kissing him seemed a good way to cheer herself up.

 

When they separated, panting (and he'd closed those two inches, his dick was very firmly against her crotch, and she'd wager good money that the equipment did, indeed, match up) he had a gloriously blissed-out expression on his face. She brought her hand up to trace the scar through his eyebrow. 

 

"I really like this scar," she told him. "You're like a pirate."

 

He'd just reassembled his features from the presumably undignified make-out-stoned style, but his lips curled up at her like he couldn't help it. "You are quite absurd, you know," he informed her, and kissed her again.

 

She didn't notice until later the tiny seed of anxiety that had blossomed in her belly.

* * *

There was a message on her computer thingy when she got back to her quarters. _I have just received word that I will be handling a nonaggression treaty negotiation in my sector_ , it read.  _If all goes well, I'll be done in a week- second date in eight days, six o'clock? (I'll make the reservations for seven, I know how you despise punctuality.)_

Normally, she would make a pointed and lascivious comment about his tendency to "arrive early"- instead, she types "sure," and then, tentatively, adds "can't wait."

 

There isn't a response- he's probably already gone. She reminds herself that if Ness only wanted casual sex he'd have proposed it before now, and dammit, she's pathetic. 

 

She retires to bed, stripping her clothes off as she goes. Ness would have a fit if he saw the state of her floor. She lies on her not-satin sheets and thinks about sex. 

 

On the surface, yeah, she wants to fuck him. Sure, he's purple-pink-fuschia-whatever (she imagines his dick is indigo like his blush) but he's fuckhot. His muscles... and his eyes... and his mustache- nah, she still hates the mustache. She wonders if, as his girlfriend, she will suddenly gain the magical power to make him shave it off, and fuck, shit,  _girlfriend_ , fuckitty-fuck-fuck _-fuck!_  


She can't be someone's girlfriend! Girlfriends are supportive and shit! They don't make rude comments about their boyfriend's potential sexual prowess and they don't make them watch  _My Little Pony_  just to fuck with them and they don't describe their homicidal tendencies after their boyfriends tell them incredibly traumatic shit, and-

 

-and, and,  _fuck!_  Just... fuck! 

 

She flings a pillow at the wall. Then another. And another. At this point, she's run out of pillows, so she gets up, walks over to the pillows on the floor, and hurls one at the opposite wall. Then another. And another. Then she walks after them. She chases them around the room for a while, and then realizes she's acting like a fucking lunatic. "FUCK!" she shouts, which does little to dispel that image.

 

She climbs back into bed with her pillows. 

 

Below the surface, she also wants to fuck him. He's grumpy and nerdy and bossy and stubborn, and she wants to suck his dick like it's a fucking lollipop. She wants him to lick her all over and snarl into her cunt. She wants to watch his face- and then she almost starts thinking about mirrors before she wrenches herself back to the present.

 

But below that-

 

Well, every person she's ever fucked has left, hasn't he? 

 

This is fucking stupid. They'll go on a date, somewhere fancy where she can make fun of the snobbily-dressed people and eye him in something non-unitard-y and he can tell her she's uncultured and sneak glances at her cleavage. Then they'll go on another one, to a museum or some shit, and she can make fun of him for being nerdy and he can tell her she has no appreciation for knowledge and quote some Greek philosopher. Then they'll come back to her place and bang like shutters in a windstorm, and then- 

 

She'll tell him there's water in the tap and make a break for it?

 

No. He'll cook her breakfast, and then- and then-

 

"Fuck," she says succinctly. 

* * *

Then, of course, an army of alien robots tries to take over Earth. Appellaxians, they're called. They swarm in the sky above Metropolis. 

"How the fuck is this my life?" she asks, looking up.

 

"Miss Jordan?" asks a courteous (and familiar) voice next to her. She turns her head to the side and there he is, the Man of Steel himself. 

 

Fuck, he's hot. Is she responsible for immigration? If she had to deport Superman, she's pretty sure she'd be lynched.

 

"Hey," she says. 

 

"Hello." he offers her a hand. His voice is familiar- they've all heard the Man of Steel speak at some point or another- but there's another, odder, familiarity in there-

 

"I apologize for not introducing myself before," he says as they shake. His grip is not an iota too tight. "I had thought to do so after your speech at the U.N., but you left so quickly-"

 

"Save the introductions," snaps a gravely voice to her right. "We have bigger problems than rudeness."

 

She observes the man in black. Batman. Holy shit. 

 

"I need to know everything you know about the alien fleet," he orders. "Especially any potential weaknesses, and-"

 

"You and Sinestro would get along really well."

 

"Yeah, about that," the next voice is flippant, rapid- "are you two doing it?" A tall man in red blurs out of nothing. "Because I hate to get in the way of true love, but if that's not the case-" he snatches her hand and wiggles his eyebrows. "I could buy you a drink sometime."

 

"You can buy me an Icee in hell," she tells him, in agreeable tones. He winces melodramatically. 

 

"Oh, darling, you wound me-"

 

"Put a sock in it, Flash." Two woman touch down next to her, one in an incredibly patriotic swimsuit with black hair, aristocratic features, and biceps that are fucking  _unreal_. The other one, the one who spoke, has long red hair, a pair of angel wings, a hawk mask (god, she hopes it's a mask) and a mace.

 

What. the fuck.

 

"Jordan," Batman raps out sharply. Yeah, he and Ness would get along like a house on fire. "Weaknesses."

 

"Appellaxians are kind of like bees," she tells him. "They should have a central ship, a hive, kind off, but I don't know which one-"

 

"That one," says a quiet, accented voice directly behind her, and she turns with a scream and an instinctive spinning kick that's snatched mid-air by the buff lady.

 

The green dude standing behind her looks down at her. Damn, she's surrounded by tall people. If they survive she's going to look really fucking ridiculous in the pictures.

 

"I apologize for startling you," he says politely, as the buff lady lets go of her ankle. "The ship you speak of is right there." He points.

 

"Lovely," she says. "They should be deploying any minute, so..."

 

She forms a glowing green platform on the ground. Batman and Flash step on warily.

 

"That was a terrible kick," The Batman informs her as they begin to rise.

 

"Shut up," she says. She's  _never_  introducing this dude to Ness.

* * *

After the photos, (conducted by a stuttering red-headed intern and a gleamy-eyed Lois Lane- "You two," she points at Superman and Hallie- "you better be giving me the exclusive on this") they all go out for pizza, or rather she (the only normal-looking member of the team, and when did they become a team) goes in to get pizza and carries twenty boxes to the top of the Daily Planet building. "I hope you know this just put me back two hundred and fifty dollars," she says.

"You can afford it," says Batman. He's hunkered on the edge of the roof, cleaning blue, goopy blood off a bataring. "Cloud Nine Airlines currently pays you a 1.62 million dollars a week to test-drive jets in the Congo."

 

"It's not at all creepy that you know that," she tells him. "Cheese or pepperoni?"

 

"Cheese."

 

She takes a slice for herself and passes him the rest of the box. Flash gets ahold of five boxes and chows down on sausage, green pepper, and anchovy, along with whatever the fuck else is on those, and then grabs a sixth- Kal prefers pepperoni while J'onn likes cheese as well and Diana and Shayera each take a box of Hawaiian.

 

"So," she says. "This... working-together shit. Didn't suck."

 

"We should at least have a way to contact each other," says Shayera. "If we needed help."

 

"More than that," says Kal. He's on his fifth slice of pizza. Hallie takes a slice of pepperoni and tosses him the rest of the box. "We should make this a regular thing. Did you see the good we did today?"

 

"Mmm mmm-gheemm!" Flash sticks his head up form a pile of decimated cardboard boxes. He swallows. "I said, I agree."

 

"It's disgusting, how fast you eat," Hallie informs him, passing him a box of black-olive-and-bacon. 

 

"Morbidly so," says Diana. "I cannot look away."

 

Flash flips off Hallie. She hurls a piece of pepperoni at his head, and he catches it in his mouth.

 

"Superman is right," says Batman. "The earth is becoming more and more dangerous. More and more often, we face threats we can't contain alone."

 

"We must join together," announces Diana. "Us, and others like us." She throws a piece of pineapple for Flash to snap up. "For the good of this world."

 

"Yes," says J'onn, and sends a bit of crust at flying. The Fastest Man Alive hasn't missed yet. God, that title makes her giggle.

 

"So we should be, what, the Super Friends?" asks Batman, with heavy sarcasm. Furtively, he tosses a small string of mozzarella to The Fastest- grow up.

 

"More like a... Justice League," says Kal, and Man of Steel is kind of bad, too, and he chucks a slice of pepperoni.

* * *

"So," she says when Carol opens the door. "I kind of have a date."

Carol squeals at a pitch normally audible only to teenage girls, small dogs, and bats. Hal rolls her eyes. 

 

"We're going  _shopping!_ " Carol shrieks. "I'll get my purse!"

 

"Wait, now? I kind of have an interview with Lois-"

 

"I'll come along!  _She_  can come along! Shopping! Whoo-hoo!"

* * *

"I won't be able to," says Lois. "I'll have to write my story-"

"Then I guess we'll have to reschedule," sighs Carol. Her voice  _drips_  with regret. It's almost moving. "She can come back tomorrow..."

 

Lois groans. "Fine," she snaps. "But if you say anything juicy off the record-" She points her pen at Hal, in an extremely threatening fashion. "It's mine."

 

"I'm not sure-"

 

"Sure," says Carol. 

 

Hal groans. "Was Kal gonna show up?"

 

"Yeah," says Lois, "about that-"

 

Clark Kent comes out onto the rooftop. "Hi, Miss Jordan," he greets her. "Who's this?"

 

"Carol Ferris," Carol says, offering him a hand. 

 

"Clark Kent." He shakes it. God, his handshake looks familiar. Why the hell does his handshake look familiar?

 

"Kal's coming by later," says Lois. Clark hands out coffee, pecking Lois on the cheek. "Now, what-"

* * *

"No," says Shayera. "Just- no."

"I wouldn't say that," argues Carol. "Maybe if you could find it in a different color?"

 

"Yeah, the style makes your boobs look good," says Lois. "But orange-"

 

"Boobs?" asks Diana, taking a sip of champagne. How the hell did this become a Justice League female-bonding session?

 

"Tits," says Lois. "Knockers." 

 

"Jugs," says Hallie. "Bazongas."

 

"Grebnacks," offers Shayera. "Danglies."

 

"It's slang for breasts, Diana," Carol tells her. "I can try and find it in black?"

 

"I do not understand," says Diana. "Her breasts look the same as ever."

 

"Yes, but you can see more of them," says Lois. "Men like that."

 

"Men  _everywhere_  like that," says Shayera. She adjusts her wings from where they sprawl inelegantly over the back of the couch. Her mace is sitting next to her. Who the fuck brings a mace into a boutique? Why the fuck is are they even _in_  a boutique?

 

Right, because Carol and Lois are too good for Macy's.

 

The attendant takes another picture with her phone. "If you don't stop doing that," says Lois, "I'm going to take that phone and smash it into tiny, tiny pieces."

 

"You can borrow my mace," promises Shayera. The attendant blanches and scurries out of the dressing room just as Carol returns with the dress in the promised black. Her ring buzzes and she brings it up before her. Ness's face appears, blurry and out of focus.

 

"Where are you?" he asks. 

 

"Defeated an invasion of earth and then went shopping," she tells him. "This eating out thing is way too much work, can't we just order pizza?"

 

"No," he says. Jackass. "Listen, there are a few planets- in my sector and yours- that wish to send ambassadors to Earth, the Guardians asked me to tell you."

 

"You're on Oa already?"

 

"Yes, negotiations are well on their way. They want you to make arrangement with your United Nations."

 

"How soon would they be getting here?"

 

"Two months or so, if you and the U.N. agree. I've sent you the dossiers on the proposed ambassadors, and they'd like to have Martian involvement-"

 

"Lois is with me," she interrupts. "She has a terrifying gleam in her eye."

 

Ness rolls his eyes. "Miss Lane," he says loudly, "You're scaring Jordan."

 

"Oops," Lois calls cheekily. She's got a recorder in her hand.

 

"I don't suppose Korugar's sending anybody?" Hallie asks carefully. 

 

He grimaces. "I imagine they will. I-"

 

Something buzzes behind him. He disappears for a moment and then comes back. "There are a few forest fires on Eegelong that need looking at," he tells her. "I will see you in four days?" 

 

"Four days," she promises. "I'll cover the drug route."

 

"Thank you."

 

For a moment they hesitate. If they start saying "you hang up," "No, you hang up!" she will fucking kill herself.

 

"Goodbye," he announces. "Oh, and Jordan?"

 

"Yes, grumpy-pants?"

 

"I like the dress," he says. "But that color makes you look like a carrot."

 

"Fuck off," she laughs, and he twitches his lips at her as he hangs up.


	2. Chapter 2

He shows up at five till. She's wearing black, the color his eyes darken to when they see her. He's in Korugarian formal wear- tight pants and a drapey sort of shirt. His collarbone flares out like an eagle's wingspan, and she wants to  _bite_  it.

 

"You're early," she notes.

 

"Better early than late." 

 

Oh, that's too easy. "That's not what she said."

 

He rolls his eyes, and makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat, but his lips twitch. 

 

"Where are we going?"

 

"You will see." He offers her an arm.

 

She swallows and takes it. He's so warm. 

 

"Yeah, not gonna work," she says as they leave. Her palms are probably sweating. "I'm afraid you're gonna take me to a museum or some shit."

 

"Language," he says automatically. "I did consider the Expansionist Museum, but then I recalled your less-than-stellar track record with valuable historical objects-"

 

"Aww, come on, Ness, it was one fountain!"

 

"Do you even know how much religious and cultural significance-"

 

"It was a  _fountain!_ "

 

"It took me four hours to persuade the governor not to execute you-"

 

"Maybe if you'd listened to me earlier-"

 

The argument carries them out into the hall and down the lift- there's a hovercar waiting. Oa isn't just Green Lantern headquarters- it's also a pretty big political center. At any given time, there are an average of seventeen interstellar treaties being negotiated and signed here, and as such there exist a great deal of fancy restaurants-

 

Hallie gives a bored groan, but Sinestro glares and keeps on lecturing. It's alright. His eyes are lit up green, and she can look at that shit for a while.

 

Dinner brings with it another onset of nerves. It's a Astractian place, so they sit on very high stools so the host can hover. She has a sudden, horrifying image of some dude on the ground looking up her skirt. For a moment, they sit in tense silence.

 

"So, why here?" she asks.

 

"Astract's in my sector," he explains, as they examine their menus. "I thought I could tell you what to avoid."

 

"What's a... ketschin?" 

 

"A small itchyoid with six fins and five rows of teeth. They would give you one of the stomachs, as the rest of the fish is highly toxic to mammalians."

 

"Yummy," she says. "What would happen to you if you ate it?"

 

"You would bleed out through all orifices. There is no known cure."

 

"Is there  _anything_  you don't know?"

 

His lips quirk up. "I've yet to fathom the purpose of rap music."

 

"Oh, come on!"

 

The argument about music lasts through drinks- Sinestro insists on ordering her wine, which makes her super uncomfortable for reasons she can't quite explain (scratch that, she can explain. Guys don't spend money on her. Ever. And she knows he literally won't even know this is gone, but it's  _wine_. Wine is a  _grown-up_  drink.) and then the waiter appears.

 

"Just because you feel the need to listen to sexually-obssessed drivel-"

 

"There's some violence in there, too-"

 

"Sir? Madam?" A floating pink... thing appears beside them. "May I take your order?"

 

"Gee, I don't know, should I get the fish stomach or the cow-sheep eyeballs?"

 

He grimaces. "You're being difficult." 

 

"It's a skill."

 

He forces the corners of his mouth down and looks at the waiter. "She will have the pagrassi platter," he tells him. "And I will have a bowl of turvek."

 

The waiter flutters away. "Please tell me you did not just order me a plate of internal organs."

 

He sips his wine with a passé air she's yet to catch him practicing in the mirror. "Aren't you always telling me to live a little, Jordan?"

 

The pagrassi platter ends up being a bunch of small appetizers, weirdly delicious combinations of Asian and Italian. There are a few that she doesn't like, and Ness eats those- Korugarian metabolisms are lightning-fast, she's very jealous- and he refuses to tell her what's in any of them, though that doesn't stop her from guessing.

 

"Insect," she decides, holding up what looks like a rib slathered in bolognese. "Some weird, ten-legged cockroach that kills people by laying eggs in their eyeballs."

 

"Insect life on Astract is predominantly eight-legged," he informs her, watching her lick her fingers. The look in his eyes makes something clench in her lap, and he pauses a little to long before adding- "there is, however, a small reptile that kills its prey in a similar manner."

 

"Cool," she says, sucking a last finger into her mouth and releasing it with a loud pop. 

 

He swallows a little and she smirks. Yeah, she did that on purpose. 

 

He narrows his eyes at her. 

 

She swipes a finger in the sauce on the platter and sucks it so hard she hollows her cheeks, lidding her eyes and adding a moan for good measure. He starts to blush and it's so fucking adorable she giggles.

 

(Giggles! Fuck!)

 

She goes to do it again, and he snatches her hand. She grins at him. "Something the matter?" she asks sweetly. His eyes are dark and his face is flushed. She grinds a little into her seat and his nostrils flare wide as he catches the scent.

 

Suddenly, slowly, he grins. It's a  _lewd_  expression, and she didn't think his facial muscles were capable of that. Her stomach muscles clench.

 

Holding her eyes, he dips a finger in the sauce, sits back, and  _licks_  it, from root to tip. Twice.

 

"Fuck," she manages.

 

"Third date," he informs her, and gestures for the check.

* * *

By the time they're in the car, he's regretting it. This is mainly because she's over her surprise and is now grinning filthily.

 

"So," she says, stretching her arms up over her head. From across the way, his eyes follow (and then jerk away from) her breasts. They are heading back to headquarters. "That was... uncharacteristic."

 

"Six syllables. I'm impressed."

 

"Mm," she says. "Yeah, I prefer the words with one syllable. Like-  _fuck_."

 

It's too dark to see clearly, but the sound cannot be anything but a gulp.

 

"Or...  _cunt_."

 

That was a squeak. She's positive.

 

"Please stop talking." His legs twitch, like he's fighting the urge to cross them. 

 

"Sure." She spreads her legs, as wide as they'll go in the confines of her dress. Then she thinks about him licking his finger. 

 

There's a choking noise as he catches the scent. The window rolls down and she laughs hysterically as he practically shoves his head out.

* * *

The second date doesn't happen for almost two weeks after that, mainly because they're a busy planning for the ambassador's arrival. They speak to the U.N.- in a new building, with more stringent security, and she actually does try to punch one of the "bestiality" reporters (Ness hauls her back and yells at her about it later, which degenerates into a make-out session.) They talk to Lois and Clark about the benefits, and then Superman shows up just after Clark leaves to fetch coffee (Ness's nostrils flare really wide, and he gets an interesting smirk on his face that he refuses to explain later) and also to various governments unsure about the idea. Then they have to go talk to the ambassadors (Ness uses a communicator for Korugar) and especially their security teams, none of whom (thankfully) have heard about the incident with the wire and the pickup truck. Then they have to talk to the interstellar press, and she gives her first interview ("You needn't worry, Jordan, they speak to all new Lanterns at some point") with an eight-foot, four-boobed purple lady called Salmar ik Rennatsu, who is very friendly, with a rich voice that puts her in mind of a baritone Oprah Winfrey. 

A few of the journalists, however, are douchebags. 

 

"And tell me, how do you feel, as a member of a somewhat- backwards species- about the new concepts you're being exposed to in the Green Lantern Corps?"

 

Ness twitches slightly beside her. It's his version of a wince.

 

"Excuse me?" she says slowly. The speaker is vaguely instectoid, with eight eyes and an elephant trunk. "What new concepts?"

 

"Well, I understand humans are somewhat primitive- in particular they're very racist-"

 

"Yeah," she says. "I've met a few racist assholes among my species."

 

The reporter, despite the trunk, manages to smile patronizingly.

 

"Of course, the only racism directed at  _me_  so far has been from him-" she jerks her head at Ness- "and you, and he apologized."

 

The reporter stutters.

 

"I hope they don't send you to cover the embassy," Ness says from next to her. "Leaving aside diplomatic concerns, I'd prefer to never breathe the same air as you again."

 

"Now wait just a minute-"

 

"Shut up," she advises. "And then go fuck yourself."

 

"How dare you-"

 

Ness levels a glare that could knock over buildings. "This interview is over," he announces snootily, and sweeps icily out of the room.

 

"Have a nice day," she tells the reporter, and follows. 

* * *

They go to an uninhabited planet called 23786-B for their next date, a picnic. 

 

"That name is fucking depressing," she announces. "I'm calling it... Disneyworld."

 

"Do you truly wish our second date to be at that monument to consumerism?" His arm is thrown over his eyes- the sun paints shadows on his skin.

 

"Don't be a dick," she yawns, and snuggles up to his right side.

 

(Snuggles! Fuck!)

 

"According to you that is my natural state."

 

"It is," she yawns again, "I'm just optimistic, Nessie."

 

He snorts. (Well, exhales a little louder than usual. Snorting is undignified.) They lie in silence for several seconds.

 

Are they gonna fuck? Is this the second or third date? He'd technically escorted her to the U.N. party, but that didn't count, right? There had been terrorists, for god's sake! Her heart had stopped! She'd ended up sucking face with a morbidly obese New York paramedic!

 

"Hallie..." he says suddenly, and stops. Which is creepy, because he doesn't hesitate. _Oh, god, are they gonna fuck?_  


 

"Yeah?"

 

"My name is Thaal," he blurts. Actually  _blurts_. Like he'd done it on impulse.

 

She freezes, fingers tangled in his shirt. "That's- is that- fuck, that's a big deal, right?"

 

"Yes," he says, arm tense over his eyes. "Yes, yes it is, I'm sorry if I've overstepped-"

 

Yeah, she doesn't really get this. Probably half the population of earth knows her first name. But if it's something important-

 

"It's a nice name," she says. "I, um, I like it!"

 

"Gods-" he stops.

 

The thing in her chest feels a lot like panic, which is nuts.

 

"I really like it?"

 

"Please," he says, "just forget I told you." 

 

He sounds pathetic. It's not a good sound for him.

 

"Wait," she says, sitting up on one elbow, and then straddling him. There's a brief wrestling match to get his arm off his eyes, which she wins through sheer immaturity and the occasional well-timed wriggle. "Wait. I... I like the name. I actually wanted to ask you, once, but I, um, I chickened out."

 

" _You_  chickened out?" He raises his eyebrows. 

 

"Yeah, I, um, I do that, sometimes. I can't- I don't-" She doesn't know what to  _say!_ She can't  _do_  this!

 

"Sometimes I worry-"

 

"I don't know how to- to fucking-"

 

"That is to say-"

 

"I can't really- I don't understand-"

 

"I am not entirely-"

 

"I'm  _bad_  at this!" she shouts. There's a moment of silence, and the six-winged birds in the trees stop singing. 

 

"Bad at what?" he asks slowly, carefully.

 

"Relationships!"

 

"Haven't we already established-"

 

"You have taken me on more dates than any guy I've ever met, ever. You look at me like- like- like you want me, but not like guys normally want me, and I don't want you like I normally want guys, and you buy me wine and you know all my favorite songs and you went to a place you hate to get me a kitten for a holiday you think is bullshit and you buy me  _fucking wine!_ "

 

"You... dislike wine?"

 

" _I don't know what you want!_ "

 

"I want  _you!_ "

 

" _Why?_ " She clamps hands over her mouth.

 

Ness sits up slowly, eyes never wavering. "I need you to understand something," he says, reaching out a hand to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck. "I intend to take you on many more than three dates."

 

"I don't-"

 

"And you need to understand that, whatever my teasing, I find you clever, and that I enjoy sparring with you, and that I find your horrid singing delightful, and that you are brilliant and brave and kind and irrational and yes, quite lovely, but that is, if not irrelevant, than at the very least not important. And that as much as I would like to, ah..."

 

"Fuck."

 

"Doing so is neither necessary nor a large factor in my decision to tell you my name. And while I cannot promise forever, I would- I would like to try."

 

He looks... scared. That scares  _her_ , and she wasn't exactly chill before.

 

"Fuck," she says. "Look- I l- I like you. Like, a lot. Because, you're, you know- purple. And bossy. And kind of a dick. And- and I'd like to try the dating thing, and, and maybe the, you know, the forever thing. And- it's just- I'm just- I'm not the kind of girl that's forever. So, I mean, I- in, I don't know, a few years- if you don't still  _want_ -"

 

"Have you not been  _listening?_ " he demands, suddenly, jerking up and knocking her back to straddle his waist as opposed to his stomach. "Honestly, Jordan, you're not  _this_  moronic-"

 

"What-"

 

"Not only have I been mooning over you like a child for half a year, but I have told you my name! Do you understand that, Jordan? That simply isn't  _done_ \- you are the only one who knows it! And, what, you believe I will wake up one morning and decide I can no longer tolerate you? Because you are unpracticed at relationships that exist outside of the bedroom? I am hardly a prize catch! I have told you my history, my thoughts, my most unpleasant secrets- what will it take to hammer it through your thick skull that I am  _in this for the long haul!"_  


 

She grabs him by his hair and pulls him into a kiss. 

 

He surges under her like the rising tide- she's on her back, grass soft beneath the blanket, and his lips are bruising hers and it's so, so good-

 

-unitards evaporate like water, he shreds her shirt to pieces, she yanks at his hair and he snarls into her mouth, they grind into each other, and she forgets to work on his clothes for a moment, because his dick is boiling hot against her cunt and his hand is groping at her breasts and her bra comes off in a tangle of ruined black satin-

 

"Mine," he snarls, yanking back, "mine, always, and I am yours, and if I have to fuck you to make you get it-"

 

"-gee, romantic," she manages, shoving his pants down with her feet. If she were colorblind, his dick would look exactly like a human's- as it is, it's indigo, which is weird, and his tongue is rasping over her nipple and drifting lower and his fingers are curling into her waistband and she stops thinking, like permanently, and then her pants are gone and he plants his face between her legs like he's dying of thirst and she's the last drop of water in the universe.

 

It's an embarrassingly short time before she's spasming and making her traditional orgasm noise, somewhere between the soulful wail of an electric guitar and the agonized death cry of an impaled hippopotamus, and then he's up and over her and in her and his eyes are that dark, dark, green and her fingers tangle in his inky hair, and when she tugs experimentally his eyes almost roll back and he stutters to a halt within her. 

 

"Oh, I forgot," she purrs. "Sensitive zone."

 

He snaps his hips forward and she gives a strangled scream. "Oh, I forgot," he hisses, leaning down to lick a burning stripe up her neck. "Sensitive zone."

 

She tugs his hair and he swivels his hips and then it's a race, a competition to see who comes first. She flexes her internal muscles and he thumbs at her clit and she keeps at his hair and he angles his hips back to brush something that makes her vision go white, white as his teeth, grinning at her, thinking he's won, the asshole-

 

"Fuck," she spits, and then, "fuck, Ness, fuck, Thaal-" his fingers tighten in her hair- she senses weakness and pounces, gripping the backs of his shoulders to haul herself up to his ear- "Thaal," she whispers in a voice that sounds like sex, "Thaal,-" and he snarls, bites down on her shoulder, and explodes. She follows with a whimper.

* * *

"Is my shoulder bleeding?" she asks drowsily some time later. The sun is sliding towards the west in a shower of gold.

 

She can feel him grimace. "A little. My apologies, Korugarians tend to do that."

 

"Kinky. We're so doing doggie style next time."

 

"Do I  _want_  to know?"

 

"Oh, I'll show you."

 

"That is what I fear."

 

"And you call yourself a Green Lantern."

 

He laughs. She forces her eyes open so she can watch. The seed of panic in her gut has been weeded out, replaced by something warm. Possibly semen.

 

"Thaal," she says, tasting the name. "I like it."

 

"Thank the gods," he says dryly. "I feared you would- ahh, dump me, had I had a displeasing first name."

 

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor," Hallie tells him primly.

 

"That explains how you learned to use it so well."

 

She muffles her snort in his ribcage.

 

His fingers, tracing patterns across her hip, start to drift lower. "About this 'doggie style-'"

 

"You sure you can figure it out?"

 

"Oh, I think I can manage," he assures her, fingers drifting very low indeed. "We anthropologists are rather good at learning. A practical demonstration, however, would be most-"

 

Her ring goes off.

 

"Fuck!" she yelps, and dives for her clothes, or rather, what remains of them.

 

"Apparently not," she hears him mutter. 

 

"What?" Hallie yanks on her underwear.

 

"Nothing."

 

"Yeah, sure-" She turns around. He's fully dressed, standing straight and tall in the middle of the clearing. She feels a little breathless at the sight of him, ringed by the twilight shadows-

 

Nope. No breathlessness. He looks normal. Stupid mustache. 

 

He waits. She swallows and walks closer, letting her unitard reform as she goes. No bra, because someone decided to rip it in half. Fucking heavy-worlder strength. 

 

"I feel like it's a lot easier to make out with you when we're arguing," she announces, standing close enough to touch.

 

He quirks an eyebrow. "That seems rather counterintuitive."

 

She winces. "Six syllables, Ness, that's just ridiculous."

 

"Back to 'Ness'?" There's a stutter of worry, though how she noticed it is anybody's guess.

 

"Thaal," she says. She likes the name. Likes the way her lips form it, likes the way it fills her mouth. Yeah, now she's thinking dirty things.

 

He leans down and kisses her. She runs her fingers up the slope of his pointy ear and he sighs into her mouth before shaking himself and pulling back.

 

"I will see you in two days?" he says. "When we meet with the Gorgonian delegation?"

 

"Yes  _sir_ ," she purrs. He gulps audibly, gives himself another shake, and leaps into the air. There's a flare of green as he hits atmosphere, and then she's standing alone in the twilight.

 

"So," she says. "That happened."

 

Her ring buzzes again. It's a call this time. She opens it-

 

"Jordan," says a dark, raspy voice. "You'll need to come back-"

 

"What the- how the fuck- did you  _hack_  the Green Lantern frequency?" 

 

"-right now. Kal insisted-"

 

"Hello, Miss Jordan. There's a problem-"

 

"This is a fucking  _magic ring_ -"

 

"It's not a  _problem_ , Jordan, it's an issue, easily resolved-"

 

"-L- Miss Lane gave me a warning and I felt we should let you know-"

 

"How in the name of Jesus fucking Christ did you ever manage to-"

 

"Some unpleasant information is about to come to light concerning your past," says Batman, and the world slows down. "Namely, your sexual assault-"

 

"I'll be there in an hour," she says, and hangs up. She looks around at the purple shadows. If she were poetic, which she's not, she'd say something about them being the same color as Ness. Thaal. 

 

"Fuck," she says, and lifts off.


End file.
